


Jinx

by berlynn_wohl



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Consentacles, Dark, Eggpreg, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Monsters, Oral Sex, Other, Oviposition, Science Fiction, Will Graham/OC (that is "Otherworldly Creature")
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 19:52:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3500798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berlynn_wohl/pseuds/berlynn_wohl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a fill for a prompt on the Hannibal kinkmeme: "Will’s most loyal companion isn’t of the canine variety, but an unusual creature that has been following him since his youth, all the way from the boatyards of Biloxi and Greenville to lake boats on Erie. It’s a frightful looking thing, but Will does hold a lot of affection for it, and it has seen a side of him not a lot of people are privy to."</p><p>You can read the full prompt here [http://hannibalkink.dreamwidth.org/4770.html?thread=7746978].</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jinx

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that I checked the box “Author Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings.” This is because I don’t like spoilers. No hard feelings if you elect not to proceed. But if oviposition is your kink, I promise that you can read parts 1 – 3 of the fic and get the kink with none of the Archive Warning content. :)

 

1.

 

The motel was only for tonight, Will's dad had told him. Tomorrow, they would be in an apartment, and would be staying in Natchez for a while. There was work there; that was why they had packed everything into the pickup truck and were making their way north. 

Sometimes when his dad said they would move into an apartment, they did, and sometimes they didn't. But there was always some kind of work, and his dad got a roof over their heads just about every night, one way or another. 

Will had helped his dad move the liquor boxes and milk crates full of their stuff from the pickup into the motel room. Then his dad had left, promising that he would bring dinner when he returned, though he did not specify when that would be. That had been an hour ago, and so Will knew that when his dad did finally return, he would have a cold Happy Meal for him, and would smell like beer. Will hoped that the Happy Meal would have another Lego set in it. He had the truck and the ship but he really wanted the helicopter. 

Right now the truck and ship were buried in one of the liquor boxes, but Will had kept two of his G.I. Joes in his pockets, so he was playing with them. Timber and Duke were rappelling down the side of the bed, and Will made up some things for them to say that he'd heard in the war movies his dad watched whenever they stayed in a motel with a TV. 

Every time his dad left him alone, he instructed Will to not open the door for anyone else, no matter what, even if they said they were a friend. And Will hadn't, he never had. But something was in the room now. 

He felt it before he saw it. When he looked up, there was a dark mass, like a cloud of soot, floating at the foot of the bed. 

“I'm not scared of you,” Will said to it. “I'm not scared of anything. Me and Michael and Josh found a dead body in the swamp, and they ran away, but I didn't.” 

The thing remained still, and did not seem to have any reaction to this. Will held out one of the G.I. Joes to it. 

“This is Timber,” he said. “Do you want to play him, and I'll be Duke?” 

The thing rippled and bulged, and one of the resulting protrusions made contact with the toy. When Will let go of it, it hung in mid-air, held by the thing. But the thing did not move it or manipulate it in any other way. 

“I'm Will. What's your name?” 

The thing did not respond. It continued to hold onto the G.I. Joe, until Will decided that it was either unwilling or unable to play with it, and took it back. He continued to play until he was tired, but he couldn't go to sleep because he was hungry, so he sat on the bed and looked out the window, until he saw his dad pull up in the truck. Will jumped up and stood by the door as his dad fumbled with the key, and finally unlocked the door and opened it himself. 

“Here you go, chief,” his dad said, and handed Will a slightly-crushed Happy Meal box. Will unfolded the flaps, reached past all the food, and pulled out the toy. It was another truck. 

Will didn't mind that the chicken nuggets were cold, but he wished the fries had been hot. His dad went into the bathroom and peed with the door open, which Will knew was gross, but it happened all the time, so he didn't care. 

“He can't see you,” Will said to the thing, with his mouth full of chicken nugget. 

“Can't see what?” his dad hollered from the bathroom. 

“Nothing!” 

His dad chuckled and flushed the toilet. 

“Are you hungry?” Will whispered. The thing did not move or respond in any way. 

His dad came back into the room and flopped down on the bed, shoeless but otherwise fully dressed. He said, “Finish your food, chief, 'cause it's lights-out in five minutes, okay?” His dad never told him to wash his face or brush his teeth before bed. His toothbrush was in one of the boxes somewhere. 

 

 

 

 2.

 

When Will's dad woke him up the next morning, the thing was still in the room; his dad even walked right through it as he packed the boxes back into the truck, as if it wasn’t there. And yet, it had held Will's G.I. Joe the night before. Will thought that it was just like a ghost in a cartoon, that could pass through walls but was somehow also substantial enough to manipulate objects when a joke called for it. 

When Will and his dad got on the road, the thing did not accompany them. But shortly after they arrived in Natchez, it appeared by his side again. It was like the dogs that would follow Will home. His dad was always scolding him not to be nice to stray dogs, because they couldn't afford to have one around, but Will defied him and cared for them however he was able to, and gave them all names. He decided to call the thing by the name he'd had planned out for the next dog, because he thought it was a cool-sounding word: Jinx. 

They ended up not staying in Natchez very long, or the town after that, or the one after that. But they stuck around Helena long enough for Will to make friends with a couple other kids in his sixth-grade class, and was even invited to a party. Only the girls were allowed to sleep over; the boys had to leave at nine. But that was enough time to sneak in a game of “Seven Minutes In Heaven.” Will had hoped that he would end up going into the closet with Amy, because he liked her voice and her smile, but when it was decided that he would instead spend his seven minutes with Julie, he was too excited and bewildered about the fact that he was about to have his first kiss to be disappointed. 

They were hunkered down in the closet for about a minute and a half, both of them too shy to do anything at all, when to Will's chagrin Jinx appeared. There was nothing Will could have done about it; he had never been able to control it, or even to discern a pattern in its appearances and disappearances. Sometimes it hung around when Will was with other people, but seldom did anyone seem to notice any unusual presence, and no one besides Will ever saw it. In these close quarters, however, Julie must have been able to sense it, because the moment it appeared, she began to fidget, and long before their seven minutes were up, she bolted from the closet, shrieking about how Will was a weirdo who had given her the creeps. 

He wasn't invited to any parties after that, and it wasn't long before they moved again. 

Will spent his thirteenth birthday fishing off a dock in Tennessee, sitting at the edge with his legs dangling, with Jinx close by. Will had long forgiven Jinx for what had happened at the party. He understood that Julie hadn't wanted to kiss him anyway, and even if she had, in another few weeks he would never see her again, and having kissed her would have made him even sadder to leave. 

For the last five years, Jinx had been his only true friend. It wasn't most people's idea of a friend, Will had to admit, but it was a good listener, and good company when he would have otherwise suffered aching loneliness. (He did have to be careful to only talk to Jinx when he was absolutely certain that no one else was around. For a while after Jinx first appeared, Will occasionally overheard his dad asking people how old they thought was too old for a boy to have an imaginary friend.) 

But the most important thing of all was, Will had never had to leave Jinx behind. It had followed him all up and down the river, which gave him comfort because he didn't have to feel like he had to start _all_ over, whenever he and his dad moved. 

Today Jinx was quite substantial, so much so that when it moved behind Will, he could relax by leaning back against it. Some days, even when Will could sense its presence strongly, he could barely see it, shimmering and formless. But the older he got, the more frequently it became sort of solid. On a day like today, its appearance was also nearly opaque, but still just as difficult to describe – not that Will had ever attempted to do so. He understood that the sight of its various rippling surfaces and undulating features would have been upsetting to others. But to him it was just Jinx. 

Sometimes he wondered whether and how much Jinx would continue to change as he got older. Would it grow limbs? Or have a face? Would it learn to talk, or at least master a few gestures? 

In the meantime, every Thanksgiving, when they showed _E.T._ on television, Will envied Elliott, who got to bond with a secret friend that was charismatic and communicative. But Jinx had been his constant companion for so long, Will accepted it, flaws and all. 

 

 

3. 

 

The sergeant put on his reading half-glasses to review the time-off request form Will had handed him. “Doing anything special?” he said conversationally. 

“I got a family thing,” Will lied. “Up in Connecticut.” 

This did not pique the sergeant's interest at all. But Detective Graham worked long hours without complaint and never called in sick, so the sergeant did not object to the request, even though it was short notice. He'd been getting a weird vibe off Graham anyway lately, like if he didn't get this time off, someone would end up regretting it. He signed the sheet and handed it back. “Just get a copy of that to Betty,” he muttered. 

Will had been working Homicide for two years now. This was the second time he had asked for a week's leave with just one day's notice. He wondered how many times he could do that, before someone put their foot down and refused him. Maybe after the third time he would put in for a transfer, start handing the forms to a different supervisor, before he developed some sort of reputation. As it was, he had no way to predict when he would need to suddenly take a week off, though he had tried to discern a pattern, and if one of these days he was refused the time off, he would have to quit, rather than deal with the possible consequences. He promised himself he would start worrying about that in another year or so. 

The first time the incident had occurred, Will had not been prepared, and had ended up stranded in the little basement room he was renting, missing several lectures and one exam and worrying those few people who cared for him enough to notice his six-day absence. Since then, he'd learned to watch for the signs, and plan as best he could once he realized that the cycle was about to begin again. 

Jinx had started getting a little friendlier than usual the day before. It was currently substantial enough to touch him, rub against him; unlike most of the time, when it would putter around in his general vicinity, it had recently decided it just didn't want to be separated from him. This behavior was Will’s signal that he needed to quickly secure a week of solitude. 

Driving home, he had a little peace and quiet and remained unmolested by Jinx. Jinx had always come and gone as it pleased, but it could not travel along with Will at any faster than running speed. If Will got in a car, he would leave Jinx behind, until it appeared an hour later, or perhaps several, depending on the length of the journey. When Will got on a plane, it might be days before he saw Jinx again, which was just one reason why he hated to fly. How it found him again, he did not know, but there was very little that Will knew or truly understood about Jinx, so he'd learned to just not care about those things. He only had to care about what would soon be happening again, because it was the only thing that Jinx did (that he was aware of) that had a profound physical effect on him. 

Upon arriving home, Will had some time to shower and eat dinner before Jinx appeared again. Almost as soon as Will noticed its presence, it was upon him, not unlike an overly affectionate dog, lapping at him with its indistinct appendages and spreading its vague presence across his whole body. 

“Yeah, I know, it's about that time,” he said. To this day he had no idea if Jinx could comprehend a word he said, but it was comforting to talk to it. People talked to their pets, didn't they, knowing (and caring) little how much they actually understood, so why not Jinx? 

Even though he knew what was about to happen, and had experienced it several times in the past, he had never quite gotten over how weird it was, and he was always a little nervous about getting started. He had hoped that he might spend a little time watching TV – he couldn't concentrate on a book when Jinx was being rambunctious, but he could watch TV just fine – before surrendering to the inevitable. He sat on the sofa in his t-shirt and boxers and flipped around until he found an episode of _M*A*S*H_ , which was for him the broadcast version of comfort food. And this was an early one, too: it had Trapper in it. That was good. He sighed deeply and settled in. 

Jinx was much more substantial by now. As Will grew to adulthood, it had very gradually become more discernible, more solid, although even now, when it touched Will with the greatest insistence, it was like the lightest brushing of fingertips. It still phased in and out, was still sometimes nearly imperceptible, but in the last five years, at least, it had acquired the occasional ability to be opaque enough to block Will's view of the TV. This was one of those times. 

Will grabbed the remote again and switched the TV off, grumbling, “You're ready now, huh? Alright.” 

It was only a few steps from the sofa to the bed. Will stripped as he went, and laid himself down on the bed entirely naked. The comforter had been removed – it was a lot harder to launder than the sheets were, so Will always put it away as a precaution. Meanwhile, Jinx was resolving itself further and had acquired several somewhat discernible features. The term “somewhat” was key, because in all these years, Will had not been able to identify with certainty whether a particular feature was a limb, or a sensory organ, or both, or neither. There was only one notable exception, one coalescing feature whose purpose Will understood quite well. 

The ovipositor was thick and segmented and protruded from a dark fog. It dripped with fluid as it moved over the space Will occupied, and nudged its sinuous way between his legs, which he opened willingly. He bent his knees and placed his heels on the mattress, bracing himself for what he would feel next: the blunt tip of the ovipositor pressing purposefully against his hole. He had to fight against every instinct to get himself to bear down, to welcome the intruder. And it happened slowly, not suddenly at all; the first segment pushing steadily past his rim, making him feel full already, though Jinx had barely begun. 

After that first bit, the other segments followed with greater ease, and Will’s hole stretched to accommodate the widest part of each. He could feel his pulse in his ears as his insides shifted to make room for it, and when he felt a spark or two of pleasure, he gave a guttural groan. 

It was unnervingly snug, but he knew he would feel better soon; this first part was the most difficult – but then again, at every stage he thought to himself that _this_ was the most difficult part. The air cooled the sweat that had broken out on his hairline and upper lip, and he shivered with the thought that he was being opened in the most dreadful, delicious way merely as a preliminary preparation, just so that he could be stuffed full. 

Jinx’s presence held him securely to the mattress but the contact was smooth, almost silky, and pulsated against every inch of his skin, which seemed more sensitized. He pumped his hips to the extent he was able, straining to feel more of it on his cock. That more conventional kind of stimulating contact made him feel better about what was going inside him, and helped his hole relax. But the feeling was still odd to him, unnatural, because Jinx did not radiate any heat. Will was saddened whenever he thought about how Jinx's close presence did not truly make up for the fact that Will had never felt the warmth of another human body. 

It wasn’t long before Will felt a new bulge, pushing against his rim: the first egg. It made its slow and steady way down the ovipositor, each segment contracting and expanding to help it on its way, forcing it into Will with little regard for how comfortable it was for him to be so full. 

A gush of warm fluid preceded the deposit, which Will could feel first inside, and then outside, as some of it seeped out around the ovipositor and soaked the sheets. The gush was so overwhelming, Will barely registered the subsequent feeling of the egg leaving Jinx entirely and being pushed into him. 

The egg settled uneventfully in his guts, but it was only the first.  There were more to follow, with very little respite between each. But Will was glad of this; every moment that he wasn't being inundated with intense and confusing feelings was a moment that he was in danger of actually thinking about what was happening. 

Each egg rolled over his prostate as it traveled down the ovipositor, making Will groan and his cock leak. They touched everywhere inside him, prodding at spots that ached, and at spots that gave him the most exquisite pleasure. And nothing Will said or did could change their course; he was forced to accept wave after wave of random sensations, whether uncomfortable or euphoric, as they rolled through his body. 

By the time the process was nearly over, Will was painfully erect and needed relief. He reached down past his distended, roiling abdomen and tugged at his cock, though his effort was made more difficult by the fact that he was so heavy and full that pumping his hips or arching his back was uncomfortable and sloshy. Still, he had to continue, with thighs taut and knees locked to help keep himself still; in his delirious desperation he believed that if he ejaculated, it might just free up some room in his body. 

But the ropes of come falling diagonally across his round little belly did not ease him at all. With the last of his energy drained by his orgasm, he slumped bonelessly, and could no longer bear to move; even the tiniest shift made him feel like the eggs were rolling around inside him, and it was too much. Even when he could remain motionless, he felt slightly nauseated. 

But just at that moment of greatest despair, he could feel that Jinx had dropped the last egg inside him; another burst of fluid accompanied it, and then the ovipositor sagged slightly, finally empty again, which gave his body some relief. Will stopped holding his breath, and released a deep, happy hum. He was exhausted from working so hard to keep himself still, even as he'd been making a fervent effort to come. 

His experience this time was completely typical; not just the event itself, but the aftermath as well: 

Will had no idea what it was that Jinx did to him, or put inside him, to make it happen, but after his orgasm he was always overcome with a strange sleepiness – not his typical post-orgasmic doze, but something that pulled him under more insistently. He slept for half a day, and even when he woke up, he was light-headed, and when he tried to sit up, something inside him told him that he needed to get horizontal again immediately, and he obeyed. This lasted for five days or so, deep sleep mixed with semi-consciousness, punctuated by brief periods of lucidity where he still felt he could not do much more than talk to Jinx a little, or rub his swollen belly. 

During these moments when he was fully conscious, he felt some slight discomfort, being so full of the eggs, but mostly it was like he was wrapped in a fuzzy blanket of good feelings, not euphoric, and not sexual, just a vague pleasantness that did plenty to convince him that he need not get up or move around, because everything was fine just like it was. 

Something always happened to his metabolism during this time. On the second or third day, he woke up intensely thirsty, and managed to shuffle to the kitchen for a glass of water. The following day, he hauled himself upright again and waddled into the bathroom to have a long piss, then returned to bed to sleep some more. Beyond that, he felt no need for food or the toilet in all that time. 

On about the fifth day, Jinx engulfed and entered him once more. He was never quite lucid for this part, but he had the vague impression that another appendage of some sort was wiggling up inside him, and then one by one, the eggs were popped out of him, and he was suffused with a dreamlike and somewhat squishy sense of relief. 

When at last he was awake and alert again, Jinx was nowhere to be found, and Will was ravenous. He was also filthy, sticky with various fluids, and he was hard-pressed to decide between the refrigerator and the shower. He ended up shoving something in his mouth that was halfway to a meal – a folded over piece of bread with some cheese in the middle – and saved the proper satisfaction of his hunger for after he'd washed away the sweat and ooze. Once clean and dry, he cooked some spaghetti, broiled a couple pieces of fish, threw in a half a bag of frozen vegetables, made some garlic bread in the oven, and then enjoyed most of a pint of ice cream since he was still feeling peckish, washing everything down with several glasses of water. 

Where Jinx went during this time, Will had no idea, but he didn't particularly care. While he liked Jinx's company, it was nice to have a couple days off to just relax at home and recover from his experience by himself. As soon as he decided that he was refreshed and refueled, it was time to go back to work, and shortly after that Jinx would return. 

 

 

 

 4.

 

Special Agent Graham fascinated Hannibal immediately, for several reasons: least important was that he was physically attractive; much more relevant was that he had a unique mind, and might well prove an intellectual match for Hannibal, a feature far more rare than beauty. But the feature which, while it might not prove the most interesting in the long term, was at the present moment the most mysterious, and provoked the most intense curiosity, was Will Graham's _odor_. Hannibal knew it was Will, because he had taken a seat in Jack's office before Will had arrived, and had not detected it then. But when Will sat down, Hannibal became aware of a scent in the air unlike anything he had ever experienced before. Not only could he not place precisely what it was, he wasn't sure he could accurately surmise whether it was animal, vegetable, or mineral. 

Hannibal watched Will closely, and listened carefully to everything he said, for some clue as to what the odor might be, but remained nonplussed, even as Will made his huffy exit. 

A few days later, Hannibal arrived at the door to Will's motel room with a little breakfast he'd prepared, and smelled the same smell. It was no stronger, even though he had clearly woken Will up and thus it was unlikely that Will had bathed in the last few hours. But when Will moved around the room – putting on some trousers, sitting down at the table – Hannibal noticed that the intensity of the odor did not strictly correspond with Will's distance from him. He also noticed Will's body language resembled that of someone who was near another person, navigating slightly around them, sitting with a slight lean so as not to crowd them. But there was clearly no third person in the room. 

Hannibal said nothing about this; he appreciated any intellectual challenge, and he was in no hurry. The solution would come in due time. 

Driving with Will around Duluth, investigating the Minnesota Shrike, Hannibal noticed that the odor had disappeared. Not just in the car, but wherever they went that day, Hannibal could not detect it. It was not until that evening, tagging along while Will planned out their little visit to the Hobbs house, that Hannibal smelled it again. He feigned some useless puttering around, and discovered something new: the odor was not on Will. It was not strongest when he was nearest to Will, but rather when he was several feet away. 

This was an unfamiliar feeling, being completely baffled by something. But it was also exhilarating, and while this business with the Shrike had provided him a little fun, and probably would be good for even more entertainment tomorrow, Hannibal was looking forward to having some time to devote to thinking about Will's mystery without a lot of mayhem to distract him.

 

 

 5.

 

Back home, over a glass of whiskey, Will asked Jinx, “So what do you think about Doctor Lecter?” He wasn't really asking Jinx. Jinx's behavior never betrayed a hint of comprehension. It had a sufficient awareness of Will's corporeal presence to provide limited physical comfort to him – it was nice to have someone to just lean on, on occasion – but it never, for example, flickered once for Yes and twice for No to convey advice, nor was it ever known to keep a cup from spilling, or open a door when Will's arms were full. Jinx never flinched, swerved, or shrugged, and even when its cycle came around, its physical interference with Will was mechanical and unwavering. 

“I don't think he's nearly as interesting as _he_ thinks he is,” Will went on. “But if his so-called expert opinion keeps me employed, I guess maybe I can pretend to care what he says.” 

“And he's kind of odd,” Will went on after a long silence. “I mean, I’m odd, but that's because of you. What's his excuse?” 

Will took another drink and said, “You know I'm pretty sure he was smelling me the other day? It made me think, maybe he's a speed freak or something. I think amphetamines can cause hyperosmia, and this guy seems like he'd be one of those, what do you call them, psychonauts. Tries every drug ever made just to see what they're like. Maybe he could get a regular job with the FBI, sniffing letters from serial killers to deduce what boutique the stationery came from.” 

Will continued to chatter about Hannibal to Jinx. He was just thinking out loud, and he did not hesitate to ramble or contradict himself when he spoke, or worry that he was being either provocative or boring. Nothing he ever said or did affected Jinx’s behavior in the least. 

 

  

6.

 

Will was always anxious about being waited on, though Hannibal performed the duty quite willingly. Whenever Hannibal left to retrieve another course, he fiddled with his napkin, had a nervous drink from his wine glass. When Hannibal re-entered the dining room carrying two plates, he tried to look relaxed and comfortable. Hannibal was far too polite to notice his utter failure. 

“For the main course,” Hannibal announced, “we have Lobster Thermidor _aux crevettes_ with a mornay sauce, served in a _Provençale_ manner, with shallots and aubergines, garnished with truffle paté and brandy, and with a fried egg on top and Spam.” 

Will nearly choked on his wine. “Excuse me?” 

“It's a joke.” Hannibal set the plates down. “Don't you know Monty Python?” 

“Never heard of him,” Will said flatly, then smirked at Hannibal. “Of course I know Monty Python. I'm surprised you do, though.” 

“Oh, I'm very cultured,” Hannibal said lightly. “But it _is_ Lobster Thermidor.” 

Will flicked one of his lobster's spindly legs with his finger. “I didn't think it was lamb. I'm cultured too, you know.” 

Just as Hannibal seated himself, he detected that strange, unearthly odor again. As usual, it had been absent the first hour or so of Will's visit. Will's behavior did not seem affected; he continued chatting as if nothing was different. 

Hannibal waited for a sufficient lull in the conversation before he said, “I wish that you had told me your friend would be joining us. I would have set a place for him.” 

Will's fork clanked on the plate. He quickly snapped it up again, with much embarrassment. All his life, he'd had to make small concessions here and there to accommodate Jinx, but never had he needed to set up any sort of cover story or other defense to deflect accusations that Jinx existed, because no one had ever come close to surmising it. Any quirk of his personality was easily attributed to his itinerant childhood or his profession. He had no plan for what to do when he was confronted about Jinx. 

Will knew his surprised reaction had given it away, and if he tried to deny it now, Hannibal would lose respect for him. But that didn't mean he had to spill everything. 

“I apologize,” he said. “It was rude of me not to let you know.” Like he was talking about a co-worker that he had invited along at the last minute. 

“He seems to join us frequently,” Hannibal went on, when Will failed to be any more forthcoming. “I wonder, does he enjoy my company as much as I enjoy yours?” 

Will hesitated, then at last replied, “To be honest, it's not particular. It tags along wherever I go.” 

“Hmm.” 

A long silence followed, which drove Will increasingly mad as it went on. He knew Hannibal was doing it on purpose. Hannibal never allowed such a long, awkward silence at his table. Finally, Will blurted, “Okay, just tell me how you figured it out.” 

Hannibal tapped his nose. “I can always detect his distinctive odor when he's around.” 

“What are you talking about? Jinx doesn't smell like anything.” 

“Perhaps not anything that you can detect. I happen to have an exceptional olfactory ability. Jinx, is that his name?” 

Will winced at his slip-up. “Yeah, that's what I call it.” 

Using, supposedly, only his keen sense of smell, Hannibal looked right at where Jinx was hovering, and said, “Hello, Jinx.” 

“It's not much for conversation,” Will explained. “It's always just kind of...there.” 

“I see.” Hannibal carried on, enjoying the meal, asking the occasional broad question about Jinx, and seeming to be satisfied with Will’s deliberately vague answers. 

Unable to restrain himself any longer, Will said, “Excuse me, but are you just… _okay_ with this? You’re not acting weirded out at all.” 

“Why would I be? It’s good to be weird.” 

Will wanted to say, _What does that even mean_ , but he was too struck by Hannibal’s nonchalance. For the first time in thirty years, Will’s secret – the strangest thing that he or, he imagined, any other human being had ever had to contend with – had been revealed, and Hannibal was talking about it like it was the weather.  

He hated to assign meaning to things that did not merit it. He did not believe in “fate” or any of that nonsense. He believed the universe was indifferent, though it happened to bend towards incomprehensible cruelty. But he could not help thinking that perhaps it was somehow important that it was Hannibal who had become aware of Jinx’s existence, and that he seemed to think no differently of Will for having learned it. Perhaps this meant that Will might want to start thinking of _him_ differently.

 

 

 

 7.

 

There was no reason for anyone to be showing up at Will's house. He had told everyone who knew him outside of work that he would be incommunicado for the next week because of a work assignment, and he’d told everyone at work that he would be visiting family in rural Montana, with no phone signal. 

And there was certainly no reason for anyone to be showing up so late in the evening. Which was why Will grabbed his rifle. He went to the door to peek through the curtains, but before he got there, the car got close enough that he could identify it as Hannibal’s Bentley by its low but distinctive engine noise. 

Will leaned the rifle against the wall. Now he was going to have to figure out how to deal with the nosy (in two senses of the word) Doctor Lecter. 

He’d already stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers; Jinx had disappeared but Will was anticipating that it would return any minute now to tackle him and carry out its cycle, and so he didn’t see the point of staying dressed. And he certainly didn’t bother to put on a robe now; he wanted to make it clear to Hannibal that his company was not expected, nor was it welcomed, at least not at this inconvenient time. 

Will answered the door without even a hello. “I said I was going to be out of state for a week,” he snapped. 

“I suspected you were lying,” Hannibal replied mildly, “and I was curious about why. May I come in?” 

Will did not so much invite Hannibal in as leave the door hanging open and walk away from it, saying, “I guess being a psychiatrist, you don't get a lot of practice at minding your own business.” 

“Admittedly not,” Hannibal replied, shutting the door behind him. 

“I just wanted to spend some time alone.” 

“I got the impression last month when we had dinner that you are almost never alone. Are you sure that you weren’t wanting to spend some time with your friend?” 

Will chuckled at Hannibal’s cluelessness. “That's not quite how it works.” 

“I only ask,” Hannibal said, looking down demurely as he removed his gloves, “because I find myself a little envious.” 

Will did not understand this remark, and ignored it. Hannibal sniffed the air and said, “I notice your friend isn't here at the moment.” 

“No, it comes and goes. But it'll be back soon, I’m certain.” 

“You always call Jinx 'it.' Why not 'he' or 'she'?” 

“You don't get it.” Will shook his head. “It's not like it's my imaginary friend that I made up. It's an amorphous cloud of vapor.” 

“Ah. So it likely won't mind if I perhaps interacted with you in a way that a cloud of vapor could not?” 

Will's knee-jerk reaction was to think, _Oh my God, if you had any idea how wrong you were about that_. But before he could deliver even a sarcastic sneer in Hannibal's direction, it occurred to him: _This man just propositioned me_. So that's what that weird vibe was. Will had always felt like there was something not quite right about Hannibal. But now he understood: that strangeness that he sensed in Hannibal, that he never felt emanating from anyone else, was _attraction_. 

Will knew, though, that he mustn’t let this revelation affect anything, not now. He leaned against the doorway to the kitchen, trying to indicate that he did not expect Hannibal to stay long and would not be inviting him to have a seat. Hannibal responded by approaching Will where he stood, not trapping him against the wall but standing close enough that his purpose was unmistakable. 

“I suspect that you would like to do that, too,” Hannibal said, low and intimate. “Are my suspicions correct?” 

Will did not want to give a solid answer, and seem like he was…what didn’t he want to seem to be? Lonely? Desperate? Easy? “It’s…crossed my mind,” he said. 

Hannibal brought his hand to Will’s face, a thumb caressing his cheekbone and then fingertips along his jawline. “I would not force myself on you,” he said, “but so long as you allow me, I will not restrain myself in showing you how strongly I desire you.” 

Oh God, this was bad. Hannibal had picked the worst possible time to have no goddamn clue what was going on. Jinx might be back any minute. What would happen if it reappeared while Hannibal was showing Will how strongly he desired him? Would it move right through Hannibal to lay its eggs? That would be quite a mood-killer, Will imagined. He wanted to say no, only because Hannibal’s timing was so poor. But he was also disinclined to turn down the first person who had ever expressed a romantic, physical desire for him. 

“Okay,” he said, “but you have to leave right after.” 

Hannibal seemed taken aback by this, but also amused. Perhaps he was confident enough in his talents to assume that Will would soon change his mind. Perhaps his curiosity was piqued, which would only increase his determination to linger afterwards, however he could manage to. 

In any event, Will still wasn’t sure how to proceed, so he stood still and said nothing more. Hannibal was dissatisfied with Will’s mouth, with its failure to deliver a delightfully sardonic remark, its determination to remain defiantly closed. So he slid his hands along Will's hips to the small of his back, then down, to grab his behind. Will opened his mouth to gasp softly, and Hannibal took the opportunity, placing his own mouth upon it. 

The kiss was not what Will expected. Oh, he'd witnessed plenty of them, sure, but he realized now that never had a kiss been described in word or image with the remotest accuracy. A bolt of pleasure shot down to his gut, made his thighs tremble. It was incredible. He felt light-headed, and slightly wrong for experiencing the sensation while standing up. 

Hannibal had Will’s arms pinned to his sides, and when he struggled to free them so he could wrap them around Hannibal, Hannibal misread the signal and released Will entirely. Will took a gulp of air, and addressed Hannibal’s inquisitive look with an admission: “I’ve never been kissed…er, like that,” he added hastily, but Hannibal caught it. “Can we, um– can we lie down on the bed?” 

“Of course,” Hannibal said with a conciliatory tilt of his head. He hung up his overcoat, then followed Will across the room. Will was ready to flop down and recline, but he realized that Hannibal was still fully dressed, so he remained standing long enough to unbutton Hannibal's jacket and push it off his shoulders. Hannibal bent his elbows to catch it before it slipped to the floor, and laid it neatly aside on the chair by the window. Meanwhile, Will was already working on the buttons of his waistcoat. Hannibal was struck by Will's enthusiasm, and allowed the waistcoat to be shucked and to fall unceremoniously to the floor. Will pulled him by the end of his tie onto the bed, wanting to continue without having to worry about keeping himself upright on his trembling knees. 

So this was what lust felt like: not the mechanical, well-worn path to orgasm he traversed when he jerked himself off in the shower three days out of four. No, this was a fire that coiled in his belly, overwhelmed him with a warm urgency that one could only experience, could not simulate nor imagine. Will was compelled not merely by this lust, but also by curiosity – he just wanted to know, to understand, what it was like to be touched this way. And Hannibal was happy to show him: how it was to be pushed down onto a bed, what a thrill it was to feel strong, skilled hands undressing you, how much fun it was to undress someone else, gradually revealing all that skin, wondering, would it be smooth? Would it be fuzzy? Would it be soft, or firm, or a little of both? And then the finding out…! 

Hannibal didn’t have nearly as much to do, but he deftly maneuvered around Will’s own agitated efforts, getting Will’s shirt up and over his head, off his arms, and getting his boxers past his quaking thighs and taut calves. Only then was he disposed to lie down alongside Will, only when he could feel and have access to every bit of him. And now that he could, he did it with fervor, lying half on top of Will, pressing down on him, demonstrating to Will how enchanted he was to have this opportunity. 

Naked and exhilarated, Will could feel every beat of his heart all the way along his throbbing cock, which was being rubbed between Hannibal’s belly and his own. He wished he hadn’t wasted so much time; he wished he had introduced himself to Hannibal by saying, “Hello, I’m Will Graham and this is Jinx, my friend who is a vague cloud,” so that he could have realized that much earlier, that Hannibal truly was exceptional, and that they could have this together, this closeness. 

Hannibal was thinking of closeness, too. “I want to be inside you,” he said, encircling Will’s waist to bring them yet more tightly together. “Would you like that?” 

Will looked down at Hannibal's cock, just the blunt head visible between their bodies, and thought about how it would nuzzle against his hole, then slide inside him and make precise jabs at his sweet spot, all the things that made him feel good, without leaving him feeling strange and bloated, or in any other way overstaying its welcome. 

“Yes,” Will said. “I want that.” 

“Do you have anything to ease the way?” 

“Do I what? Oh! Uh, sure...” Will reached out to open the drawer of the nightstand table, but did not find what he was looking for there. He tried feeling around under a pillow, and at last brought out a tube. He handed it to Hannibal, who examined the label. It seemed to meet with his approval, and he proceeded to hunker down between Will’s knees, squeezing lube onto his fingers and then, with his other hand, taking Will’s straining erection and directing it into his mouth. 

Hannibal was being gentle with those fingers, but the truth was, having been unceremoniously penetrated by Jinx so many times in the past, his efforts felt perfectly pleasant and not intrusive at all. Will was mesmerized instead by the sight of himself in Hannibal’s mouth. He reached out, touching Hannibal’s cheek, feeling the head of his cock on the other side, and then pulled his hand away like it had been burned. It was so unbelievable, so achingly erotic, he thought he would die. That warm, wet tongue felt so lush against him, and his head fell back onto the pillow, and he whimpered. 

Will continued to vocalize just slightly with each exhale as Hannibal removed his fingers. He slid Will’s cock out of his mouth and got up on his knees. At the unobstructed sight of Hannibal slicking himself up, Will spread his legs wider without thinking. 

When Hannibal pressed inside him, it was nothing like when Jinx pushed its ovipositor inside. In contrast to Jinx's eternal impassiveness, Hannibal was clearly floored by the sensation Will provided with his body. He alternated between whispering words of gratitude in Will's ear, thanking him for the pleasure he was taking, and pushing his tongue into Will’s open, eager mouth, as though fucking was an insufficient amount of penetration. 

“Your cock feels so good,” Will cried out, between kisses. 

Hannibal pressed his lips to Will’s neck, just behind his ear, and said, “Yes? You like what I'm doing with it?” 

“Uh huh...” 

Will could not, or rather did not want to be, more specific out loud, but what he was enjoying most was that compared to the ovipositor, it was a very comfortable size and he felt like it fit nicely inside him. Also, it was _warm_. Better than Hannibal's kind words and his skill was his warm body, a solid core and powerful limbs that pressed against Will, held him, made him feel so hot and desired and treasured. Jinx's indifferent caresses would always feel hollow now. 

Also new and thrilling was that Will felt like a participant, not merely a vessel. Jinx did whatever it wanted to him, but Hannibal was a human, and two humans could learn how to move _together_. By twisting a little or saying a few words, Will could alter their course, as subtly or dramatically as he wished, and make it feel even better. 

“Can you, um, never stop?” he asked, unashamed. “I just want to keep doing this forever.” 

Hannibal, though he remained relatively composed in appearance, was stunned by Will’s relentless uninhibited exclamations. He replied, “Gladly.” 

Will briefly pondered the fact that Hannibal was going to come inside him, and wondered how it might affect Jinx's eggs, to be exposed to his ejaculate. This thought made him feel squirmy with arousal, and he dug his heels into the mattress, pushing himself up to encourage Hannibal to get deeper inside him. Hannibal smiled at this. Oh, Will was going to be _insatiable_ , he knew. Now that he had a taste for it, he would want affection all the time. 

Abruptly, Will became aware of Jinx's presence again. It was a shadow near the bed, more faint than Will had seen it in a long time, but its reappearance was accompanied by a new, unsettling tingling across his skin, like nails on a chalkboard mixed with static electricity. 

“Um, something's happening,” Will said, his voice suddenly high and tight with distress. 

Hannibal seemed thrilled to hear this, and did not let it interrupt his rhythm. He told Will, “It's alright, just let it happen. Let yourself feel it.” 

“No, I mean I feel like...” 

Next to him, the shadow that was Jinx coalesced into a whirling sphere of energy, and in a single explosive movement shot across the bed, taking Hannibal with it in a show of force far beyond the ability of any earthly creature and flinging him against the wall. Will had not even processed what happened until after he heard the sickening sound of bone cracking, followed by the thump of Hannibal's body hitting the floor. 

Will leapt from the bed and across the room to where Hannibal lay twisted like a ragdoll. He was limp and unresponsive, his eyes open and unblinking. Two fingers pressed to his carotid told Will that he had not merely been knocked unconscious. Naked, confounded, and just thirty seconds removed from a beautiful and ecstatic sexual experience, Will now had a dead body in his house. 

“What the fuck did you do,” he shouted over and over at Jinx, who hovered in the room, having settled back into a more familiar form. “What the fuck did you do.” 

Blood seeped from the back of Hannibal's head into the rug. Will grabbed his shirt from the floor and placed it underneath the crack in his skull, to soak it up. Already he was thinking like a killer: he could paint over the little splatter of blood on the wall, and dispose of the sodden rug and shirt, but if the blood got on his floorboards, luminol would reveal it. 

But his knee-jerk reaction to spare the floor was just the beginning. He had a lot of work ahead of him. “You piece of shit,” he said to Jinx. “Look what you've done. I can't go to prison! What the fuck do you think I'm gonna do in prison, with you around? What happens when I'm sharing a cell with some six-foot-six neo-Nazi named 'Snake' and you want to lay some fucking eggs? Now I've got to fucking take care of this.” 

Okay, the easy stuff first: he would have to get Hannibal's car off his property. He could drive it back to Baltimore, but then how would he return to Wolf Trap without anyone catching on? He could take a bus part of the way, probably, then hitchhike a little, walk the last few miles from the highway. He'd need to rake the length of his driveway, leaving no trace of the Bentley's tire tracks in the gravel. That would hopefully be enough on that front; he doubted that Hannibal had mentioned his whereabouts to anyone in this particular situation, or scribbled into an appointment book _11 PM, drive to Wolf Trap and seduce Will Graham._  

As for the rug and clothes: it was April, so the 4PM burn ban was in effect. He lived remotely enough that the odds of being caught burning were small if he didn't want to wait, but this was not the time to take chances. He would wait until tomorrow evening to dispose of those things. 

But he couldn't burn the body. The smell would carry for miles, and the teeth and bones wouldn't be got rid of easily by that method. Transporting it off his property would take less effort if he exsanguinated and chopped it up first, but doing those things would dramatically increase the likelihood of sprinkling his home with yet more evidence. Every idea he had, in fact, was flawed. He'd spent years accumulating a complete encyclopedic knowledge of how to commit a perfect murder and never be caught, but step one of such a plan was always _Don't kill the person in your own home_. 

Not for one moment in this agonizing aftermath could he afford to spare a thought for what he had just lost: a momentary grasp of human tenderness, a chance of perhaps having a companion in life, someone who could provide him with the affection and joy that every other human being he'd encountered had been too repulsed to even come close to providing. Not to mention the new understanding that it never _could_ happen, not ever, even if he were to encounter another person as exceptional as Hannibal Lecter. Not as long as Jinx was around. 

As it was, over the next twenty-four hours the only thought that Will allowed himself to have that was not immediately concerned with the disposal of Hannibal Lecter's body was that he must from now on always carry his sidearm with him, no matter where he went, because at any time it might become clear that his attempt to conceal this incident had failed, and he would, without a moment's hesitation, need to use the weapon on himself.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
